


Family Reunions

by TheCookieOfDoom



Series: Prompt Fills [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Robb, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega!Jon, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-11-02 02:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10934709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCookieOfDoom/pseuds/TheCookieOfDoom
Summary: It was a restless night for Jon, leaving him tossing and turning and waking in a cold sweat more than once throughout the night and into the early hours of the morning. He was plagued by visions of men with skin of gold and dragons with white scales and purple eyes and a man cloaked in the green light of wildfire. The dream seemed to center around a solitary dark tower reaching for the sky and filled with a woman’s screams.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the anonymous prompt: ABO. Rhaegar wins and the Targaryens rule. To keep the peace, Ned is allowed to raise Jon in the North. He doesn't tell anyone Jon's an omega, in a world where omegas are prized above all other things. And now the Royal Family is due for a visit...
> 
> I love this prompt, and I've been grinning since I saw it earlier today, and I immediately started writing it. It's going to be a bit more than a drabble, though ;)

It was in the Tower of Joy that Lord Eddard Stark and King Rheagar Targaryen brokered an agreement. Rheagar would not be a father to his son, the son he forced Lyanna to have so that he might have an heir. The babe would not be safe in King’s Landing, a city full of lies and treachery and betrayals. Instead, he would be raised by Ned, who would be allowed to live provided he swore fealty and cared for Jon as if the boy was his own. And if he kept secret the truth of his blood, until such a time as Rheagar returned for him. Ned agreed; he had not been able to protect his sister, but he would protect her son. 

_ 17 Years Later  _

“Jon, did you hear the news? The royal family is coming! They’ll be here any day, now.” Arya bounced about Jon excitedly, chattering away. Sansa was no better, though he was a bit more restrained in her excitement, sitting on the bed. 

“They say the king’s younger brother is more handsome than anyone in the land. And that his sister is more beautiful than any goddess.” 

“I’ve heard,” Jon said, scooping Arya up with a grin and tossing her onto the bed beside Sansa, almost knocking the older girl over. She shouted, making both him and Arya laugh. “I’ve heard that prince Viserys wears a coat of gold, that was poured over him by a barbarian lord in an attempt to kill him. But the gold did not burn him. It cooled into a second skin like armor. And I’ve also heard that princess Daenerys is a dragon, with beautiful scales like pearls, and great big teeth like the sharpest daggers. She’s burned cities and eaten her enemies, picking her teeth with their bones!” 

Arya laughed, delighted at the story. Sansa was rapt with interest, as well, although she tried to hide it. Fairy tales were below a young lady like her, and yet when she heard the wild tales Jon spun for the younger Stark children, she couldn’t help but listen. 

“What are you all doing in here?” Robb asked, grinning where he stood at the door. Jon turned, surprised, having not heard him come in. Robb looked at him, one eyebrow raised with interest. 

“Telling the girls about the  _ noble  _ King and his family that are apparently coming to WInterfell.” 

“More like abandoning me to mother and hiding out so that you don’t have to help with the preparations,” he accused, his voice light. Jon’s conspiratory smile was enough of an answer.

“Perhaps that may be true. I think I’m better put to use by keeping Arya here out of trouble.” 

“Hey!” Arya said, smacking at Jon where he lay beside her. She would definitely present as an alpha in a few years time, troublesome litter terror that she was. 

“Come on, you. Mother has ordered we both get cleaned up.”

“Do I have to?” 

“Yep. You, me, and Theon. So come on, pup; then you can get back to gossiping about the prince and princess while Sansa braids your pretty hair.” 

Robb turned and ran, Jon jumping off the bed to chase after him with a mock-enraged shout. The alpha was laughing all the way, until Jon cornered him in an empty guest room. Jon knew Robb let him, even as he pushed his half-brother up against the door once it was closed behind them. 

“‘Gossiping about the prince and princess’? I do believe my lord is jealous,” Jon taunted, snapping his teeth at Robb playfully.

“So what if I was?” 

“Perhaps you should be.” Jon groaned as Robb picked him up and reversed their positions, slamming him back against the door instead, holding his Jon’s legs wrapped around his waist.

“Why’s that? What would a pretty prince or dragon princess want with a little beta bastard like you?” 

“The pretty prince likes collecting pretty things, or so I’ve heard,” Jon said, his teeth glinting fierce in the low light streaming in through the open window. “And you’ve called me pretty many times.” 

He gasped when one of Robb’s hands settled around his neck, squeezing the breath from his lungs. “Not  _ that  _ pretty, I’m afraid.”

“You  _ are  _ jealous,” Jon choked out, a crooked smile twisting his lips. 

“Of course I’m jealous. You’re  _ mine _ .”

“And  _ you  _ are a spoiled child.” 

Robb bared his teeth at Jon, Jon doing just the same with no sense of fear or self-preservation in his heart as he challenged Robb. Neither of them were the sort to back down, to bare their necks or show their bellies in submission. Robb still believed Jon was meant to have been an alpha, as he had for the last several years. 

“You’re a prick, you know that?”

“Aye. But it’s what you love most about me. I’m the only one here willing to tell you you’re being stupid.” He reached up to tangle his hand in Robb’s hair, jerking his head back until he hissed. “And love, you’re being quite stupid right now.”

“Say you’re mine,” Robb said, ordering as much as pleading. 

Jon leaned forward to kiss Robb, dragging his bottom lip through his teeth instead. “I’m yours,” he said, quiet like a hiss. “I would rather be a lord’s whore than a prince’s consort.”

Robb grinned against his lips, hiding his relief at the words he knew to be true but nevertheless needed to hear. “You would rather I keep you chained naked to my bed than draped in finery at the capital?” 

“ _ Always _ ,” he said, and Robb pulled him into a harsh, biting kiss with one hand in his hair and another squeezing at his hip. Neither of them broke it until they heard voices outside, Robb pulling away as they both panted into the scant space between them. 

“Later,” Jon promised as he was set back on his feet, rising up on his toes to give Robb another kiss. 

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I know you will. Now let’s go, before your mother finds us and has both our heads.”

When Jon realized just what ‘getting cleaned up’ entailed, he wanted to run. But Robb grabbed him and pushed him towards Tommy before he could take so much as a step. He sat down, glaring at Robb all the while as he felt Tommy’s hands in his hair. 

***

Jon spent a good few hours with Robb that night, before finally sneaking back into his own quarters. As he did every night, he brewed a cup of bitter smelling tea and swallowed it down without so much as a grimace, having done so hundreds of times before. When he was just a boy, Lord Stark had corresponded with maester Aemon, the only one that he could trust with the knowledge of Jon’s true nature. He had taken Jon to the wall to meet the man, under the pretense of taking him to meet his uncle, Benjen. Aemon had known instantly that Jon was his kin. Had understood instantly the need for secrecy. He had concocted a mixture, stating that Jon must drink it once a day to ensure it did it’s work

Ned told Jon it was because when he was very young, he had gotten sick. And that this potion was the only thing to keep the sickness from taking him, even now, years later. Jon had no reason to doubt him, but he’d always felt that the words were untrue; he couldn’t say why, it was just something he felt in his heart. 

He changed into his nightclothes and got into bed, feeling sluggish as the effects of the potion washed over him. Everything around him was so intense, and then dulled, going back and forth like a tide coming in and receding. It would pass, in time, and he would return to normal. He imagined this was what it was like to be an omega, senses assaulted by the strong scents of everyone who was near. He much preferred being a beta, smelling others on a much more muted level, immune to the pheromones of others. Which of course meant he also couldn’t pick up the subtleties of other’s moods, but he was usually forgiven for that, given his status. 

It was a restless night for Jon, leaving him tossing and turning and waking in a cold sweat more than once throughout the night and into the early hours of the morning. He was plagued by visions of men with skin of gold and dragons with white scales and purple eyes and a man cloaked in the green light of wildfire. The dream seemed to center around a solitary dark tower reaching for the sky and filled with a woman’s screams.

By morning, he had forgotten almost all of the dream. He attributed it to the coming of the Targaryen’s. He could not, however, divine the meaning behind the woman he saw in the tower, unable to remember much of her features other than her eyes, the soft brown of the earth after a fresh rain. 

He was woken a final time by Lady Catelyn, announcing that the royal family was here and that he was about to sleep through the proceedings. He was exhausted from his time spent with Robb, and then his night not spent sleeping. Even still, he forced himself from the warmth of his bed and into his clothes, so that he could join the rest of those gathered in waiting. Robb was on his way out of his own room, looking much more rested, and turned when he heard Jon approaching. When he saw the limp Jon was trying his best to hide, he grinned. Jon just glared, pulling him aside to hardly whisper against his ear, 

“Knot me like that again without warning and I  _ will  _ geld you.” 

“Shut up, you like it,” Robb whispered back, smirking. 

“I like it when you  _ tell  _ me first,” he hissed. “There’s a  _ reason  _ betas and alphas don’t mate.” 

Robb’s expression softened as he looked at Jon, brushing his knuckles down his cheek. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, it wasn’t my intention.” 

Jon leaned into his touch with a sigh, far from pleased but at the moment at least appeased. “Just don’t do it again, alright?” 

“I promise. I never want to hurt you.” He kissed the top of Jon’s head when he brother nodded, wishing he do more. 

“You’ll be making it up to me tonight,” Jon said, as if reading his thoughts, and Robb smiled. 

“Of course I will. For as many nights as you wish.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” Jon pressed a soft kiss to Robb’s jaw before pulling away from him, going to join everyone else. Robb followed soon after, going to stand beside his father. Part of Jon wished he was granted that honor, as well. The other part was glad he wasn’t, because surely Catelyn would drive a dagger into his heart while he slept, should a bastard be treated equal to her precious son.  


	2. Chapter 2

The prince was indeed handsome, his features fine and his pose regal, but his skin was not plated in gold. And the princess was indeed beautiful, small in stature but holding herself like a queen. There was fire in her eyes, but not in her belly, for she was not a dragon. There was, however, a small black dragon curled about her waist like a belt, another, this one white, around her neck, and a third green one perched on her shoulder. It snapped viciously as she held a piece of meat up to it. Jon could see even from his place that Arya was practically vibrating with energy, wanting to run to the princess and see her dragons up close.

Rhaegar approached, Lord Stark and the rest of them bowing before their king, until they were permitted to rise once more.

“You have not taken a queen,” Ned stated, after kissing princess Daenerys’ knuckles. The dragon’s eyed him warily, spitting fire until their mother calmed him.

“I would not be able to love any other woman,” the king said coolly. It was unclear whether he meant other than his wife, Elia, or his mate, Lyanna Stark. Of course, it became obvious with his next words. “Take me to her, I would like to pay my respects.”

“As you wish.”

The King was led away from the gathered Northerner’s and his retinue, taken into the crypts, leaving his younger siblings to regard everyone before them. Finally, Arya could stand it no more, running forward to the princess despite Sansa’s protests at being so improper. She remembered to curtsey, at least.

“Can I pet your dragons?” she asked excitedly, all but bouncing where she stood. Lady Catelyn’s eyes were strained as she tried to call Arya back, the little lady protesting with something that was not quite a whine, but very close. Daenerys smiled, the warm smile of a mother, and gestured to Catelyn that it was alright.

“You may, but be careful; they have a particular taste for fingers.”

Arya reached out to stroke the black dragon’s head, squealing in delight when it butted at her hand.

“Would you like to hold him?”

“Can I?” Arya asked, looking up at the princess like she hung the moon and stars. Daenerys nodded, taking the dragon from around her waist. He coiled around her arm, then Arya’s, when Daenerys handed him to the young girl.

“His name is Drogon, the biggest of my children. And the fiercest.”

“He’s beautiful,” Arya said, awestruck as the dragon puffed bouts of flame into the space between her and the dragon. Catelyn still looked unsure, not quite trusting the prince or princess. That discomfort only increased when one of her youngest, Bran, came forward to get a closer look at the dragons.

“Would you like to hold one as well, lovely girl?” she asked, catching Sansa watching them with interest. Pale cheeks flushing a rosy pink, she nodded, stepping forward when Daenerys beckoned her with an outstretched hand. When the princess took her hand to pull her closer, the blush on her cheeks darkened.

“My, you’re a pretty one,” the princess said, reaching up to touch Sansa’s cheek with her free hand. Behind her, her mother tensed, not trusting the intentions of the dragon princess. There was something in her purple eyes that Catelyn didn’t like, and indeed, as if sensing the woman’s thoughts, Daenerys’ eyes flashed, just for a brief moment, as she looked over Sansa’s shoulder. She spoke not to Catelyn, however, her attention returning to Sansa just as quickly as it had left the girl.

“You’ve hair like dragonfire.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Please, call me Daenerys.” There were whispers at this, a simple nobles daughter being permitted to address the princess so informally. Daenerys paid them no mind, of course, used to such things. “What am I to call you, little one?”

“My name is Sansa.” The flush on her cheeks was bright, now, not that there was anyone but the prince and princess to see.

“This one is Rhaegal,” she said, taking the green and bronze dragon from her shoulder to hold between them. He fanned his wings out, clutching Sansa’s shoulders to hold onto her like a babe might hold it’s mother. “He likes you,” Daenerys said, smiling in approval. Sansa smiled back shyly, holding the dragon to her.

“He’s so pretty…”

“Yes, he is. And your hair looks lovely next to his scales like that.”

Sansa handed the dragon back to his mother and stepped away, curtseying before going to go talk with her friend, occasionally sending furtive glances towards Daenerys.

Before any of the other Stark children could come forward, filled with fascination towards Daenerys’ dragons, Viserion flew from her neck to a dark-haired boy who was speaking to the eldest of Ned Starks children. The rest of those who had gathered to greet the royal family had dispersed by now, resuming their daily tasks. Daenerys did not know what they were saying, but she didn’t need to know, able to see the secretive smiles they shared as they softly spoke. It was curious how Viserion landed on the dark-haired one’s shoulder to coil around his neck, as he had done with Daenerys. The boy was startled, to say the least, not knowing what to do when suddenly having a scaly beast around him.

He looked at Catelyn with what Daenerys thought to be an undue amount of fear, and then to herself, pretty brown eyes wide. There was something familiar about him; her dragon certainly seemed to agree, quite content with the boy.

Curious, she made her way over to him, Drogon flocking to her side much to Arya’s disappointment; Catelyn took the chance to reclaim her daughter from the dragon-princesses clutches, ushering her away to her room.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace, I didn’t mean to--I don’t--” Jon was struggling to get the dragon off of him without hurting either himself or the beast, but was not having much success as it held tight to him, growling in warning.

“It’s alright, he seems to want to be exactly where he is.” Beside the boy, Robb stifled a laugh, drifting away from him with a discreet squeeze to his hip that Daenerys didn’t miss. She wondered if this was Robb’s mate, but no, neither of them smelled like mates. And in fact, this one was a beta, it appeared, and betas didn’t take bond marks. It was painful and fruitless to try; that was a special kind of union that could only be between an alpha and omega. “Will you tell me your name?”

“Jon Snow.” Realization lit the princesses purple eyes, and he tensed, believing himself to know the reason why. A glance at Catelyn, who was glaring at him as if she wished the dragon around his neck would squeeze the life from him, only made it worse. “Yes, I’m Lord Stark’s bastard,” he said, tongue dripping poison and hate as he said the words.

“Interesting,” she said, not in response to his words, as she collected Viserion. It was interesting that the dragon named for her brother would be the one drawn to the boy who felt as though he were the blood of her blood. However, she could detect no scent other than the muted, muddied one of a beta, nothing to identify if he was indeed of her blood. Only time would tell.

Jon was relieved to have the beast taken from him, not wanting to be near such a creature. He quite preferred wolves to dragons, thank you very much.

***

Down inside the crypts that held generations of Stark bones, the old, tense allies discussed the purpose of the royal family's arrival.

“You’ve come to take him back,” Ned said. It was not a question. That had been their agreement, seventeen years and three months ago. Before, Ned had been agreeable to the deal. Peace, and the life of his beloved sister’s son, in return for raising a boy he had already come to care for the moment he’d seen his precious brown eyes. But now that the time has finally come, Ned didn’t know if he had the strength to give up the child who had all but become his own, send him away into a foreign land that was so unlike the North. Ned knew Jon would hate it; while a part of him may be of the South, he would always belong in the North.

“You don’t want me to.”

“Of course not. You told me to raise him as my own and so I have. I am the only father that boy has known, and he is just like another of my beloved sons.”

“But he is not your son. He is not yours to keep.” Ned only just held his tongue, keeping himself from saying what he truly wished to; _he’s not yours to take._ “He is matured?” Rhaegar continued.

“Yes, he is.”

“And he is a beta?” Ned wished to say that yes, Jon was a beta. To keep up the lie, and spare him an omega’s fate, for it was not a pleasant one. But the king would know, and lying to the king was bordering on treason.

“No. He is an omega. I have hidden it for years, even from him. No one knows but me, and Aemon Targaryen, who has been supplying him with the tinctures needed to keep his nature at bay. Jon believes it to be a treatment to an illness he had when he was a boy, too young to remember.”

“He is unmated, then?”

“Yes. He remains… untouched.” Jon had never shown interest in anyone in Winterfell. Why would he, when a bastard like him would only be shunned, rejected, for any advances?

“Good. He will make a suitable mate for my younger brother.” Ned froze, stopping in place. The king walked ahead a few more places, before coming to stop, turning to look at Ned. “You disapprove?”

“Prince Viserys is his uncle--”

“A more distant relationship than traditionally practiced, I assure you.”

“Jon was not raised with your… ways. He will not be agreeable to finding out he is not only a Targaryen, but to then be mated to his own blood.”

“He will come around.”

Ned shook his head in denial, knowing his son better than that. It would be too much for him, all at once. To learn that the man he thought to be his father was not, and that he had suffered at the unkind hands of Catelyn Stark for seventeen years for _nothing_ . That he was not only a prince, but the _Crown Prince_. That he was an omega, would have to suffer the fate of one. And that he would have to be mated to a man he’d never met, who was his uncle by blood.

“No, he won’t. Not with this."

“Then what would you suggest I do, _Lord_ Stark?” Rhaegar asked, in a tone that spoke volumes for how much he did not care about what Ned believed he should do.

“Give him time to adjust to this all. Don’t tell him in one sitting, it’ll be too much. And if you are determined for him to be Prince Viserys’, have the prince properly court him. Let him get used to the idea of his new fate.”

The idea was not a bad one. Perhaps it would have a better turnout than forcing Jon’s fate on him too fast. He did not wish harm to come to his son after all, physical or otherwise. If giving him a period to adjust to his life would help ease his mind, then Rhaegar would allow it.

“Very well. He will learn who he is and what his new life is to be slowly, so that he may adjust. Then I shall take him to King’s Landing, where he belongs.”

***

Daenerys had Lady Catelyn show her and Viserys to where they would be staying, her brother sneering all the while. She found she rather liked Winterfell, it reminded her of her time with the Dothraki who took her in when she was a child, and her beloved Khal. It was much colder, of course, but the furs everywhere, the harsh ruggedness. It reminded her of her home and her love.

Of course, that was exactly the reason Viserys detested it, having to be wrapped up in ‘fur rags’ to keep warm, while she walked about in her Dothraki clothes, the cold having no affect on her in the least.

“Try to be kind,” she chided, as Catelyn left them alone in her chambers; Viserys’ were next to hers, with Rhaegar’s across the hall.

“Kind?” Viserys spat, as if the concept was as foreign to him as the Dothraki language.

“Yes. They have taken us in, show some courtesy. I’m sure the Lady Catelyn would not mind turning you out into the snow, if you do not like it here.”

Her brother scoffed, huddled in his cloak and looking at her with fire in his eyes. Nothing compared to the fire of her own that had been sparked and fed by her barbarian lover, and especially nothing compared to that of the dragons about her body, who would not hesitate to light her brother aflame should he dare strike her ever again.

Viserys could call himself the blood of the dragon all he wished, but they both knew who the real dragon was, of the three Targaryen siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Dany was still with Drogo, I'm just changing their story a bit. It will be explained later. However, she was not conquering everyone :D


	3. Chapter 3

With the royal family here to stay, and especially after what happened with the dragon when they first got to Winterfell, Jon was to be kept out of sight almost entirely. That meant he and Robb had little time to each other, the eldest Stark child expected to play nice with the royals who he would one day be serving, when he took Ned’s place as Warden of the North. Jon thought they didn’t have much time together before, but now it was days before he saw him in more than passing, or had a chance to do more than exchange a few words occasionally. They may as well just start sending ravens to each other. 

He hated it. He missed his lover, realizing just how much he took their precious time together for granted. So caught up in his own self-pity, he didn’t realize those in Winterfell who were plotting to completely turn his life upside down. 

***

After breakfast on the fourth day, Rhaegar finally pulled Viserys aside to tell him on what he was expected to do while they were here. Viserys, of course, was not pleased. 

“He’s not one of us,” the prince protested, whining like the petulant brat he was.

“His is as much a Targaryen as you or I, even if he doesn’t look like us.”

“He’s a  _ beta _ .”

At this, Rhaegar smiled the smug smile of someone about to reveal a well kept secret. One that had the power to change a nation. “No, he’s not,” he said in the silken purr of one confident that he held all the cards. Viserys was still not pleased, of course, wanting nothing to do with his brothers machinations. 

“I still don’t know why you want  _ me  _ to court him. Why not Dany?” 

“Jon is my heir, and you are next in line after him. If you want the crown, you will court the boy, and you will do so  _ properly _ , so that he wants to become your mate.” Finished with this conversation, Rhaegar turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and I have told our dear sister. She will be courting him too, and if she succeeds, the crown shall go to her. My son is the key to the Seven Kingdoms, little brother. You’d best remember that.” 

***

Robb’s faith was in the Seven. Even so, he could be scene disappearing into the Godswood, presumably to pray under the crimson leaves of the heartwood tree, kneeling before the Old Gods in supplication. If anyone had questions about why the young man was doing so, none voiced them. 

It wasn’t prayer that drove Robb into the woods, however, but the mate he had yet to claim. He could see Jon kneeling, head bowed in reverence, but it was likely more show than true prayer. A façade, should it be anyone other than Robb stumbling upon him. He didn’t look up,  the perfect picture of devotion, until Robb came to stand before him; one hand fisted in his hair to pull his head back. Jon looked up at him through his thick eyelashes, full lips curling up into a conspiratory smile. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said, leaning into Robb’s touch with a soft groan when the grip on his hair tightened, pulling at his roots in a way that had lust coursing through his veins. 

“Of course I came,” Robb said, smirking down at Jon, pleased at the way Jon bared his neck. He could just see the faded hickey peaking out over his collar. “Well go on, then, why don’t you show me how happy you are to see me?”

Jon accepted the challenge with a hidden grin, lifting his hands to tug at the laces of Robb’s pants, pulling them loose so that he could pull them down his thighs, blushing when he saw Robb was wearing nothing underneath with a mumbled, “someone’s eager.” 

“I wonder what the Old Gods must think of you,” Robb taunted, moaning as Jon stroked him to full hardness. “So willingly getting on you knees in their holy place for me.” 

“Mine or more forgiving than yours. What would they think about you fucking your  _ brother _ ?” 

“ _ Half _ -brother.” 

“As if that makes it better,” Jon with a smirk. He’d come to terms with their relationship along time ago, made peace with the fact that this was horribly wrong, deplorable even, shameful, but that they were going to do it anyway. “Blood is blood, dear brother.” 

Robb found that the best way to silence Jon was to put something in his mouth, so that’s what he did now, thrusting past his plush lips and choking him on his cock. He could still see the smirk in his eyes, though, even as Jon struggled to breathe past the sudden intrusion. 

***

“We should do this more often,” Jon mumbled against Robb’s neck, blissfully relaxed in the hot water of the spring. He teased his lover’s flesh with his teeth and tongue, moaning when Robb ground his hips up, relishing in the way the alpha’s knot tugged at him. It hurt, still, even with how long Robb had spent preparing him to be sure he could take it. But it was the kind of hurt that brought moans to his lips rather than tears to his eyes.

A part of him deliriously wished Robb’s seed would catch, that they could conceive a child, but male betas couldn’t bear pups; they weren’t built for it. It was for the best, of course; they could hide their little trysts now, but if there was a child… that wasn’t something that would be possible to hide. Especially if the child had Tully-red hair, unlike the dark hair of most of Winterfell’s inhabitants. Not to mention Jon would wish a bastards fate on no child. He had the fortune of being the bastard of a kind, noble lord, and therefore had a better fate than most. Any child he had would not be so lucky. 

“Hey,” Robb said, nosing as his cheek to get his attention, pulling Jon out of his thoughts. “What are you thinking about?” 

“Just things. Things that can’t happen, no matter how much I wish and pray they could.” 

Robb stared at him for a moment, before understanding dawned on him. Smiling wistfully, one of his hands drifted from Jon’s hip to trace his fingertips over his perfectly flat, lightly muscled abdomen. “Perhaps the Mother would grant us such a gift. 

Jon scoffed. “Your gods are crueler than mine. The Mother would sooner see you sterile than me fertile and pregnant by you.” 

“Close with the Seven, now, are you?”

“Closer to reality,” Jon said, nipping at Robb’s jaw. His lover grinned, lifting his hand out of the water to card through Jon’s damp, tangled curls. 

“I’ve never had much use for reality. It tries to convince me of things I don’t agree with.” Like the reality that one day, Robb would be mated to a pretty omega, and this thing between them would end. And it would end, because Robb was nothing if not faithful. And Jon wouldn’t dare try to tarnish his honor--more than he already had just by being with him, tainting him with his abnormal lust--by trying to lure him into infidelity. 

“You don’t have much use for anything that doesn’t serve your terrible purposes,” Jon said. 

“Terrible? I have no idea what you mean.” 

“You know exactly what I mean, you beast. Interrupting my  _ prayer _ , just so you could-”

“Now, now, I don’t think it would be appropriate for you to speak of such things before the gods.”

“Hardly appropriate for you to  _ do  _ such things to me before them.” 

Robb laughed, wrapping his arms around Jon to pull him closer. “I didn’t hear you protesting.” 

“Well…”

“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought.” 

***

“What the hell?” Jon mumbled, finding a neatly wrapped package waiting for him in his quarters, placed on his pillow. Robb, who had taken the risk to walk with Jon back to the keep, frowned when he saw the gift. 

“I wonder who left that?”

“I wonder if it’s alive.” He loved Arya dearly, but if she left one more scaly beast in his bed…. He walked over, carefully unwrapping the fine silk fabric--unlike anything they had in the North, favoring instead thick wool to ward off the cold--to find not a lizard or snake, but a fine piece of jewelry. The silver glinted in the firelight, finely woven strands of the metal creating intricate knotwork, coupled with fine blue gems. Perhaps sapphires. “It’s a necklace,” he said, flatly.

Scowling, Robb walked over. He plucked it up, his eyes darkening with a simmering anger when he caught the scent that was all over it. 

“It seems I do need to worry about the prince stealing you away from me after all.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was supposed to be smut featuring bj's and godswood sex, but man, I was not in the mood I guess? Sorry guys, next time T^T


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my lovely new beta, danydany! She's definitely improved the quality of my work, and I think you all will enjoy the improvement lol. That said, things are starting to get good!

Jon sat the necklace aside as a problem for another day, putting his attention instead to get his stubborn brother back to his own room before he tried to do something embarrassing, like scent-marking Jon. The practice was out of fashion, at least in the South, but in the North there were still those that continued it if they felt their claim to a particular omega was being challenged by another. A simple but effective tactic to ward off other suitors before a pair was officially mated. Or even after, if the alpha was particularly possessive over their mate. Once before, Robb had tried to scent-mark Jon, even though he was not an omega. 

It had been when they were younger, just boys really; he hadn’t like it when Theon started paying attention to Jon. It’d been about a year or two after Theon had presented, and he’d become even more insufferable than he already was, aggressive towards omegas he wanted and alphas he felt threatened by. What made matters worse was that Jon was returning the attention. Albeit timidly, having grown so used to Theon’s unkindness that he didn’t know what to do when the older boy started making advances, calling him sweet things and petting him. 

Sometime later in the week, Robb had found Jon while he was bathing Red-cheeked and angry he demanded that Jon  _ stop _ . The beta hadn’t understood, of course, not realizing just what the new attention from Theon meant. But Robb did, he’d overheard Theon talking about it. Theon had talked about marking Jon too. It was out of the want to claim him, but not permanently, as well as the desire to degrade him. It was, after all, what an unwanted bastard boy like him deserved. So Robb decided he’d scent Jon first, and then Theon couldn’t have him. 

Jon didn’t talk to him for almost two weeks after the humiliating, half-successful attempt. Theon he avoided for nearer to a month, and his resentment only grew with time. 

When Jon woke the next morning, he knew the day was going to be hell. How could it be anything else, between Robb’s fast temper and the prince’s gift? Jon’s prediction was proven correct when he passed by the dining hall. He caught sight of Robb glaring daggers at Viserys across the table, the prince not affected in the least as he eyes his breakfast with distaste. Hardly the kind of fine dish one would find at the capital, but Jon was at a loss as to what was distasteful about it. 

Even across the hall, the animosity radiating off of Robb was tangible. Jon stood by the heavy wooden doors, leaning against the wall as he waited for things to escalate into a brawl; he would hardly be surprised if it did. Robb had the same weakness that all alpha’s did: a temper quick to flare when mates and challengers were involved. Jon tried to catch Robb’s attention subtly, not wanting to also attract that of the rest of his family. 

Jon didn’t notice someone was calling his name until the third, possibly even fourth repetition, looking away from Robb to see prince Viserys looking at him with a poisonous smile. 

“Don’t be a stranger, Jon. Come, sit with me. It’s you we’ve come so far to see, after all,” he said, patting the lace on the bench beside him. Suddenly, all hate and discontent for the North and it’s folk was gone from his features, as if it had never been there at all. 

Jon found himself questioning that, suspicious in the sudden change to politeness. But as he was just a bastard, he was not in a position to refuse the prince and heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Pushing away from the wall, Jon walked stiffly across the hall to seat himself a respectable distance away from Viserys. Having none of that, Viserys pulled him closer, until he was pressed into the alpha’s side, all but on his lap and unable to smell anything but his scent. Light, like sweet wine, with a bitter, sour undertone and completely overwhelming to Jon’s senses. Reminding himself that he had to do as the prince wished, lest he risk angering him, Jon bit his tongue and swallowed back a protest, even as Robb’s vicious glare fell on him. 

‘It’s hardly like I want to be here,’ he wanted to say.

“You’re not wearing the necklace I left you,” Viserys said, once again claiming Jon’s attention from Robb. There was disappointment in his voice as he touched Jon’s neck. “What a shame, I thought it would look beautiful on you. Did you not like it?” The edge to his voice dared Jon to say that he didn’t. 

“It was lovely, your grace, but this is hardly appropriate-” 

Viserys leaned in close, lips brushing Jon’s ear so that no one could hear him, as he whispered, “It is if I say it is,” before pulling back. “I know you have it still, I can smell it. Come on now, take it out, I want to see how it looks on you.” 

Jon pulled the necklace from his pocket, allowing Viserys to take it from him and clasp the delicate piece around his neck. Something about the scent of it bothered him, nagging at his mind like a long forgotten memory. It was almost like his father’s scent, but different in a way. Gentler, perhaps. That’s why he had it, he’d been intending to ask Ned about it. 

“This is your mother’s, did you know? It was hidden away in the Red Keep. A spoil of war, you could say. It’s a shame to leave something so beautiful locked up to collect dust, and I thought you might like to have it something to remind you of her.” 

Jon looked down at the necklace, touching the small gemstones with his fingertips. “Lord Stark hasn’t told me much of my mother,” he said, voice quiet, as if he was only speaking to himself. Ned hadn’t kept anything of hers either, save a single gray scarf he’d passed on to Jon. he kept it hidden away in his room. When he’d been much younger, he used to sleep with it every night, comforted by his mother’s fading scent. 

“No, I’d imagine he wouldn’t.” Not when Jon’s mother was a stain on Ned’s otherwise perfect reputation. 

Across the table, Lady Catelyn sucked in a breath through her teeth, the sound like a hiss, before abruptly standing from the table and taking her leave. 

“I’m sorry, that was unkind of me,” Viserys said, all sincerity. But his voice was devoid of a single hint of remorse. 

Robb stood and went after his mother, followed by his father, and Jon silently pleaded not to be left alone to Viserys. But Robb was angry, irrationally so seeing as Jon had no choice in his current position, and wanted only to be away from Jon. 

From Viserys’ other side, Daenerys spoke up, her voice chiding. She’d been so quiet, Jon hadn’t even realized she was there. “My brother, one may think you are causing strife among the Starks intentionally.” 

“My sister, why ever would you believe such a thing? The Starks are our gracious hosts, I would never seek to intentionally offend.” 

“Indeed. Perhaps you should go and make that clear to Lady Stark, then?”

Viserys made to refuse, but whatever Daenerys did that Jon couldn’t see, had Viserys pushing him away and getting up to follow the Starks. Perhaps it wasn’t something Daenerys did, though; with Viserys gone, he could see the dragons laying on the table, snapping bits of meat out of the air that she tossed to them. 

Daenerys stood as well, motioning for Jon to do the same. “Come, I’ve been inside for too long, and I think a walk would do me good. Would you be so kind as to show me to a pleasant place away from here?” 

“There’s the godswood?” he suggested, that being the first place he thought of. Jon often went to walk through the trees to clear his head. 

“Perfect. Lead the way, please.” 

The walk into the heart of the godswood was spent in silence. Daenerys had her hand at the crook of Jon’s arm, leading as much as following. While he was wrapped in his cloak to keep warm, she wore the same garb as she had when her and her family first arrived. Some would call her outfit rags, fit only for slaves and peasants. Jon just thought it was more appropriate for warmer weather, and wondered how she was not freezing like he was. She seemed to be untouched by the cold, unlike her brothers, warmed by a fire within, all her own. 

The dragons flew around them, soaring through the trees and breathing bouts of flames. All except Viserion, who came to perch on Jon’s shoulder as soon as Daenerys had taken hold of him, tail wrapped around his neck like a necklace. Or perhaps more accurately a collar. 

“It seems Viserion has taken a liking to you,” she said, a smile in her voice. Her smile was kinder, gentler, than her brother’s. She was nothing like Viserys, like how Arya was nothing like Sansa. They were complete opposites, despite being siblings. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What for? Have you done something wrong?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” He felt like he had, though he never knew what. Perhaps it was just the sin of his very existence that lead him to apologize.

“It isn’t a crime for one of my dragons to form an attachment to you, Jon. I hardly mind. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t allow my children companions?” 

When at last they were before the heartwood tree, between it and the pond, Jon bowed his head in reverence and said a silent prayer to greet the gods. Daenerys watched him with an amused quirk to her lips. He couldn’t help but want to smile when he lifted his head and turned to see it. 

“What gods do you keep, your grace?” he asked. He almost couldn’t imagine that she did. As small as she was, she was imposing in her regality, her mere presence demanding respect. One disapproving look from her could surely send the fiercest of alpha males and gods alike to their knees in supplication. 

“Those I’m sure you’ve never heard of.” 

“Not the Seven, then?”

“No. Nor the Old Gods, though mine  _ are  _ certainly Old. But I’ve not brought you here to speak of Gods, Jon.”

“Then why have you brought me here?” From the look in her eye, he suspected there was something she wished to discuss with him. Something that must be spoken of in a secluded place where they would not be disturbed hence, he had suggested this most sacred of places. 

“Tell me, Jon Snow, do you find anything about me familiar?” She wished to speak of riddles, then? 

“Only your name and reputation, Your Grace. I doubt the existence of any who’ve not heard of the Dragon Queen.” 

“‘Khaleesi’,” she corrected. “Not ‘queen’. And not a title of much worth in these lands, I’m afraid. Regardless, you flatter me Jon, but I do not mean my name and titles. Is there anything about  _ me _ , as I stand before you now that you know?” 

  
“I don’t understand.” He didn’t know what it was she wanted from him, what he was supposed to say. Perhaps there might be something familiar about her, in a primal sense, but he couldn’t be sure if that wasn’t just from knowing who she was.

“You will, dear boy. Very soon, much is going to be revealed to you. Much that you may not want to know, that you may not be able to accept. It is important that you do.”

“I have brought you here to tell you this: you must, for your well-being and the sake of the kingdom, accept your fate when the time comes. It will be difficult, and it may even feel impossible, but I hope to the cruel gods you worship that when everything is over, you make the right decision.” 

Apprehensive, and made uncomfortable by what sounded like the ramblings of a madwoman, Jon moved away from Daenerys. He banished Viserion from his shoulder, as well. 

“What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense.” 

“Two choices lay before you, Jon. Waiting for you like daggers in the dark. Both are sharpened to kill, but one is poisoned. It is impossible for you to know which until it is too late, and you’ve already been infected. I hope, for your sake, you pick the less dangerous path.” 

“Which path is that?”

“It is not for me to say. You must determine that for yourself, Jon.” 

“Is there an antidote for this poisoned dagger you speak of?” 

“Perhaps, but it is it’s own poison.” 

Jon left the godswood alone, thoroughly confused about Daenerys’ words. He mulled over them again and again, trying to find out what she meant by that cryptic, unnerving conversation. To no avail, much to his disappointment. Jon wanted to write it off as meaningless garble from a princess who’d been driven mad by her time spent away from Westeros, but he knew better than to do so. The princess was more intelligent than anyone gave her credit for, and Jon could only take her words for the warning she meant them to be. If only he could divine the meaning of her warning. 

Jon attempted to find Robb when he got back to Winterfell, wanting to see what he had to say about all of this, but his brother was nowhere to be found. Likely avoiding him because of what happened at breakfast. 

“What were you getting up to with my sister?” Viserys asked, a trace of jealousy in his voice. His sudden appearance made Jon startle, silently berating himself for being so lost in his thoughts that he was unaware of his surroundings. It was a good thing that Viserys was not his enemy, or he may end up with one of those daggers Daenerys spoke of stabbed into something vital. 

“Nothing, Your Grace,” he said, too fast. “The Princess just expressed that she was tired of being cooped up in Winterfell, and wanted to go for a walk.” As a beta, it was only appropriate that Jon accompanied her. Alpha’s were fierce warriors, and he had no doubt that Daenerys was any different, especially with the stories he had heard of her before she came home to Westeros. But the betas, like him, were to serve as guards for their alpha and omega lords and ladies. They were not so affected by pheromones, known for being clear headed and rational. It was only proper, by societal standards, for Jon to take the position of her personal guard, seeing as she had none with her. 

Jon didn’t know why he should feel so defensive about why he was with Daenerys, enough so to justify it to himself. Perhaps of what she’d told him, that was meant for him and him alone, the secrecy weighing on him. He couldn’t help but feel that Daenerys may have been warning him about her brother. 

“Ah, yes, my dear sister is quite the wild one. Every bit the savage her mate was.” 

“Sorry?” Jon asked, taken aback at the sudden animosity towards Daenerys. From his short time spent with her in the godswood, he couldn’t see what Viserys meant by calling her savage; she had been a perfect lady. 

“Oh, you didn’t know? I suppose you had to be there. Dany was mated to a Dothraki Khal. Why do you think she still calls herself ‘Khaleesi’? It means ‘queen’ if you didn’t know, not that she was ever queen of much. Barbarians and their horses. Ever since her precious Khal Drogo was killed, proven not to be the strongest and therefore unfit to lead his khalasar, she’s been tainted by the Dothraki’s lust for power. She’s desired our brothers throne ever since our return, and would do anything to get it.” Viserys frowned at the shocked look on Jon’s face, reaching out to brush his hair back.

“I know, it must be strange for you to realize that my sister is not who she pretends to be. Do be careful around her, Jon, she is not worthy of your trust.” 

‘Someone who tells me not to trust another is hardly trustworthy himself,’ Jon wanted to say. He was not stupid enough to put that thought to words. “I have to go, Your Grace,” he said instead, making to push past Viserys. The prince caught him by his arm, not letting him pass by. 

“You would do well to heed my advice, Jon. No one fears the horse when the dragon is near, but it’s no less deadly.”

As he had said to Daenerys, now he repeated himself to Viserys. “I don’t understand.” 

“You will, in time. Now go, I won’t keep you further. Try to remember what I’ve told you, when the time comes.” 

Jon left him, no longer seeking his brother, instead going in search of maester Luwin. 

“Will you tell me about the Dothraki?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reeeeally need about $300 for school by the end of the month, so if anyone would like to support me for all my hard work on the fics, please consider buying me a coffee! http://ko-fi.com/thecookieofdoom  
> Call it an early birthday present ;) (August 22 bby!)  
> edit:
> 
> weekly votes and prompts once again available!  
> https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1OjDEzBg-iUO8967KvPFTGGfVtc2iOylg_aSdoUQKpnY/edit


	5. Chapter 5

Jon inherently knew something was wrong when his father came to wake him early in the morning. The sun’s first rays had not yet even breached the horizon. Only servants would be awake at this hour, preparing for another day of serving the nobles. Ned Stark's face was solemn, hand resting on Jon's shoulder. Tiredly, Jon thought perhaps someone had died in the night but he was too tired to make a guess at who it might be. Then he thought that he was finally being sent away from Winterfell, tossed out like the bath water to dwell somewhere else until he was of age to join the Night's Watch.    
  
"What's happened?" Jon asked after a silence that would have stretched on until winter came, had he let it. His father seemed at a loss for words, struggling to find a suitable answer. There was pain in his tired eyes when he finally did.    
  
"You need to get dressed and come with me. Quickly."   
  
Used to being suddenly woken by Robb late into the night so that they may sneak away from Winterfell while the castle sleep, Jon was able to have himself out of bed and dressed in only a matter of minutes despite the haze of tiredness settled thickly over him like fog. Stifling a yawn, he followed his father out of his chambers and through the empty halls watching the man look around with careful, watchful eyes. Why? Jon could not guess. He could see no immediate reason for such secrecy.   
  
Jon was led from the castle out into the courtyard, the cold of the snow shocking his mind to wakefulness. Once they neared the crypts, the vague idea of fear began to gnaw at him; it didn't take a brilliant mind to know something was greatly amiss, only a slight more alert one. Could his father have lead him down here to kill him at last? Could the madness that the Targaryen bloodline was famous for have contaminated his father by prolonged proximity? Ned had been spending an awful lot of time with the King, enraptured in secretive conversations when they thought no one was present to witness. Jon had seen them on several odd occasions, sneaking around the castle himself. Though he'd never gotten close enough to hear of what they spoke for fear of them picking up his scent and discovering him.    
  
The honorable Lord Eddard Stark was too noble to murder his son, however. Even if it would have been the dishonorable but proper thing to do when the boy was only an intranet, fresh from his mothers womb. Before anyone but the dying woman knew of his birth, to spare his proud lady wife the slight of not only infidelity but also having to raise a bastard as her own, amongst her true born children. Perhaps another man would have. As atrocious a sin as it was, it would spare noble wive's hearts and noble men's reputations. The life of a bastard was certainly no life for a child. Ned Stark was not that man, could never be that man. No, Jon had been led into the Stark family crypts for another purpose. Likely not the one that he and Robb used them for on occasion either, his father not seeking to make his muffled screams echo through the crypts like the cries of disturbed ghosts.    
  
Jon was abruptly taken from his thoughts and forced back into reality when he saw a head of familiar silver-white hair a pair of gleaming violet eyes like jewels. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the king. "What is the meaning of this?" He demanded, trusting no one with those eyes. Not even Daenerys, for all her supposed kindness.    
  
"I was beginning to think you intended to keep me waiting here all morning, Stark," the King said, calm, but for the underlying edge of impatience to his voice. He did not like to be kept waiting any longer than he deemed necessary, and there was no man important enough to keep him waiting any length of time.    
  
"I had to be careful not to be seen, Your Grace. We got here as soon as discretion allowed." Rhaegar was hardly pleased with Ned's explanation—or excuse, he certainly could have been faster had he not sought to prolong the inevitable—but he did not deign to dwell on such a small matter. Pettiness as simple as that was for low borns to partake in, not the heads of dynasties. Rhaegar returned his attention to the statue of Jon's aunt Lyanna. He had looked away from her briefly upon their arrival, but when he looked back to her now Jon was sure he saw something in the man's demeanor soften. Unable to read people's scents as all betas were, Jon had learned to read body language.   
  
There were stories of Rhaegar before his father had gone mad and before Rhaegar had taken the crown. Storied where he had been kind and gentle, unlike many other noble alphas, loved by all his people. A minstrel more than a prince, a friend to all who met him, lowborn and highborn alike. That was the man Jon caught a glimpse of now, looking fondly at the statue of a woman long passed, and a love long lost. Jon was also aware of other, darker stories that head heard from strangers lips. Stories that Rhaegar had, in a fit of lust, captured his young aunt, raped her and held her prisoner until her lord brother and once betrothed started a war to get her back from the dragons clutches. Once, Jon may have believed such rumors. It was easy to believe the worst when it came to kings and strangers.    
  
If Jon ever believed those stories, he couldn't now. Not with the agony and love in those violet eyes. If nothing else, Jon could believe Rhaegar had once dearly loved his aunt. Still did, from her the way he looked at her immortalized statue as if it were her in the flesh. A small part of Jon hoped that one day someone would look at him that way, though preferably with less sorrow.   
  
Then it was gone, any trace of gentleness. He was no longer the minstrel prince, returning once more to the weary last dragon.    
  
"You look so much like my Lyanna," Rhaegar said, tearing his eyes from the statue to look instead at Jon. The young beta felt a twinge of fear spike through him. He did not want to remind this man of his long dead mate for fear of what he may do. Rhaegar nostrils flared, no doubt smelling Jon's trepidation, and Ned stepped closer as if to protect his son, like he was thinking the same thing Jon was. But the King continued without remarking on it. "She looked more like a Stark than Eddard ever did. Just as you look more like a Stark than any of your siblings, except that Arya girl." Rhaegar said the word 'siblings' strangely, like he was choking on it.    
  
"It must be strange for you, to have the looks the Starks are so famed for, yet to be counted as a bastard, while Lord Stark's true born children all look like the Tullys of Riverrun. Especially that eldest, Robb. He looks nothing like a Stark."    
  
'Thank the gods for that,' Jon thought. With his Tully red hair and blue Tully eyes, so like his mother, Jon could lead himself to believe that Robb wasn't really his brother. They looked so completely different to be siblings. And Jon didn't even resemble his father, really, looking different enough from his supposed family that he could tell himself he was a changeling, not really brother or son to any of them. Had Robb been born with the Stark coloring, Jon didn't think he would have ever been able to stand his half-brother's touch.   
  
"Tell me, boy, what has your father told you of what you are?" Again, Rhaegar spoke strangely, this time the word 'father' coming out like a growl.   
  
"Pardon me, Your Grace?"   
  
"I believe my question was clear." Perhaps to someone high on milk of the poppy, but Jon was at a loss.    
  
"He's told me I'm a bastard." Jon said the words with the hint of a question. He imagined his expression was similar to when he drank that bitter tea every morning and night, pinched and unpleasant. "And and a beta, like my mother." His father has also told him he is a Stark, regardless of his name. It was blood that mattered, not words.    
  
"You're not," Ned said, finally speaking. Jon wanted to scream.    
  
"Forgive me Lord Stark, Your Grace, but it's too early for me to parse out more riddles. Will the both of you just say what it is you brought me here to say and be done with it?" Ned looked as if he would be sick from the way Jon spoke to the King. Rhaegar only look quietly amused. Jon may hide his scent, and his true nature, but he could never hide the Targaryen dragon fire in his belly.    
  
"You're not a beta," Ned clarified, without actually clarifying anything. This time, Jon wanted to laugh, or perhaps cry. He just stared blankly at his father.    
  
"Right, and I'm also not a bastard." At this, Rhaegar's lips twitched. For an instant he looked as if he would laugh or cry as well. Mostly he just looked like there was something he ached to say, but couldn't bring forth the words.    
  
"You're an omega, Jon. Many years ago, I lied to you. I took you to the Wall to see maester Aemon, not Benjen. It was to get you a tincture to keep your omega nature at bay. Your scent and heats. It kept you from presenting." Which much be why despite apparently being an omega, Jon had never fallen pregnant during the years Robb had been bedding him. "It was my intent to keep this from you, and spare you an omega’s fate for as long as I could. But that time has come to an end."   
  
"Why? Why tell me all of this now?"   
  
"That is where I come in," Rhaegar said. He had been watching the interaction with mild curiosity, something like the hurt in his eyes when he'd looked at Lyanna statue present in them now. Still he looked as if he wished to say something other than the words he allowed to pass his lips.    
  
Looking at Rhaegar, glancing over his shoulder to the statue that stood behind him, Jon blanched. "You don't mean to take me as a mate," he said. If Ned spoke the truth, then Jon was at the prime age for it. Rhaegar had already said Jon looked like his beloved Lyanna, and now Rhaegar looked at him in a way he couldn't read. When Rhaegar didn't answer right away, Jon took it to mean he was considering it. He moved to step away, flee, only to be caught by Ned's hand on his shoulder keeping him in place.    
  
"I do not wish to take you as a mate, no," Rhaegar said. He had a rueful smile on his lips. "I am old enough to be your father. If I were to ever take another mate, they would not be so young as you."   
  
"Then what do you have to do with all of this? Your Grace."   
  
"Many, many years ago, your father and I forged a tenuous treaty in order to bring peace to the Seven Kingdoms. A treaty whose terms come to an end once I return to King's Landing with my brother and sister. Your purpose, Jon, is to bridge the way for a new, much stronger and lasting alliance between the North and the South."   
  
"How am I to do that?" He asked. He already knew the answer. There was only one use for an omega when it came to politics. Even, it seemed, for bastards. His father's efforts to spare him had been in vain.    
  
"You will mate with my brother and bear Targaryen children," Rhaegar said, dispassionately. "Or you may take my sister as your mate, if you prefer. It would be a strange arrangement to see an omega male with a female alpha, but not an unheard of one."   
  
Only a few seconds ago, Jon had expected this. Still his knees buckled. When he collapsed, just before darkness took him, he thought he saw stars, but it might have just been the candle light.    
\---   
Rhaegar caught Jon before the omega's head could collide with the ground, hefting him up into his arms. Like many omega males, Jon was slight. He was not as light as one of his size should be, though, his lithe form densely muscled. Not that he was particularly difficult for such a strong alpha as Rhaegar to carry, even if he was no longer in his younger years. The omega was no waif, and while that made him heavier, Rhaegar was proud that his son would not be weak and simpering like so many others. His was strong and full of fire, as a Targaryen ought to be, regardless of their status.    
  
"I will take him back to his chambers," Rhaegar said, wanting a moment alone with his son, away from Ned's watchful eye. His tone brooked no argument. With a parting look to Lyanna's statue, he left Ned alone in the crypts.    
  
The sun was beginning its slow climb over the eastern horizon as Rhaegar carried Jon across the courtyard. As lovely as it look shining over the glistening snow, it looked even better from the Red Keep. He could hardly wait to show Jon the sight he should have grown up with. Rhaegar had always loved watching the sun rise over the sea.   
  
"What happened to Jon?" The Stark heir asked when Rhaegar passed. He was just coming out of his room, likely going to meet his family for breakfast.    
  
"Nothing you need concern yourself with," Rhaegar said coldly. He did not take kindly to the way the young alpha looked at his son, watching him in much the same fashion a starved man might watch preparations for a feast.    
  
Robb did not dare challenge the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, silently watching his retreating form, all the while worry for his brother crawled up his throat until he choked on it. As soon as the King was gone, Robb would be by Jon's side to care for him.    
  
Rhaegar laid Jon down on his bed, careful not to wake him and lose what precious time he had with his son—Ned had the audacity to beg Rhaegar not to tell Jon of his true lineage just yet, wanting just a little more time as the boy's father. What of Rhaegar? He had been robbed of seeing Jon grow through the years into the man he had become. The most important years of his life, and Rhaegar had been present for none of them, not even heard of them. He knew next to nothing of his own son. Nothing but his animosity and suspicion, both of which the boy believed he rightly deserved.   
  
Even unconscious, Jon was sullen, pouty lips drawn into a frown that came so easily to him, eyebrows knit together. If he could, Rhaegar would take away whatever unpleasantness plagued Jon so that his son make sleep peacefully, without care. As he should. Softly, Rhaegar stroked his fingers through Jon's soft hair, wild strands curling around his fingers. He caught sight of fine silver at his throat—finer than anything a bastard would wear—a small strand standing over his collar. Rhaegar pulled it up to see what it was, and tears gathered in his eyes. He hadn't seen Lyanna's necklace since he'd lost her. A mating gift, it had been sealed in a fine box to protect it and locked away with the rest of the royal treasures, too painful to look at and yet he found himself unwilling to part with this last reminder of her. Rhaegar had brought it with him, intending to give it to Jon. Seventeen years later and the pain of losing her was still fresh in his memory. He had been unable to bring himself to open the box and look at the necklace. He knew he would surely come undone with grief if he smelled her scent still lingering on it after so long.    
  
Viserys must have found the necklace, and taken it to present to Jon as an official beginning to his courtship. Rhaegar could not fathom how his brother had found it, having hidden it away with his things and not spoken of it, keeping it hidden away.    
  
"Lyanna," he whispered, tracing his fingers over the precious stones before brushing them over Jon's cheek. "You would be so proud to see him, my love. He's so beautiful, and strong, just like you were. If only you could see him now." Jon was beginning to stir, and so ended their time together. Rhaegar leaned down to kiss his crown of curls before leaving him, eyes damp with longing.    
  
Ever watchful, Robb had been lurking down the hall, waiting for the exact moment the King left Jon's chambers. Once he disappeared down a different hall, Robb ran to Jon's chambers, finding him in the middle of sitting up with a deep scowl.   
  
"What happened?" Robb asked, sitting beside Jon on the bed.    
  
"I think I fainted. Did you carry me back here?"   
  
"No, the King did. What were you doing with him this early in the day?"   
  
His face pale and drawn, Jon looked at Robb. He spoke without a hint of humor in his voice.    
  
"Making mating arrangements with him and father."

**Author's Note:**

> I did promise more omega Jon, didn't I? ;)
> 
> vote and/or prompt here, as always  
> https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1OjDEzBg-iUO8967KvPFTGGfVtc2iOylg_aSdoUQKpnY/edit#responses
> 
> edit: it has occurred to me that I am almost at 100 fics! So I've decided to do a giveaway that will begin when I get to 90ish, and end at 99. Whoever wins the raffle for it (payment in the form of comments when I tell you it will begin ;) ) will get any 5k dream fic. Any au, any pairing (unless I'm uncomfortable with it) and any subject matter. Gore like THoOL/Marionette? Fluffiest fluff? a lil bit(or a lot) of smut? You name it, and I'll write it. 
> 
> There's going to be more to it than that, of course, but as it gets closer to my 100th fic, I'll tell you all more about it. Just wanted ta let you know you have something to look forward to!


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